The Park's Empire: Handsome Strangers...: The Prince's Bride
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“Very well,” Emily murmured. She caught glimpses into rooms off the hallway that were decorated in a mix of Mediterranean architecture, Persian carpets, Italian glass, French furniture, and Moroccan pillows. She was charmed by the beautiful building with it’s jewel-box rooms; somehow the interiors she saw managed to combine palatial elegance with the warmth of a real home.
“Here we are.” Lazhar pushed open a door and halted. “If there’s anything you want or need that you don’t find, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you.” Emily stepped into the room, her gaze quickly sweeping the lovely furnishings before she turned to look at him, her fingers closing over the door handle. “You’re very kind.”
“Not at all.” He shrugged, his lashes narrowing as he assessed her. “You look ready to fall asleep standing there. Get some sleep,” he said abruptly. “We’ll talk after you’ve rested.” And he reached out and caught the edge of the door, gently moving it out of her grasp, closing it between them.
Left alone, Emily surveyed her room and realized that it was actually a suite of rooms. The ruby and cream Persian carpet was thick and plush beneath her feet as she walked across the airy sitting room to peek through an open door. Here, the drapes were partially drawn across floor-to-ceiling windows, barring the hot sunlight from the interior. The wide bed was draped in sheer white panels, the pale lemon sheet and green silk coverlet turned back invitingly below the embroidered pillows. Despite the effects of jet lag that had her yawning, Emily walked to the archway and stepped out into a lovely garden. Walled on three sides for privacy with bougainvillea spilling hot pink flowers over the sand-colored stones, the garden was a riot of white and pink roses, fragrant lavender, sage, rosemary and silvery artemisia. One wall was only waist-high and the view of Daniz Harbor and the Mediterranean Sea beyond was breathtaking. Emily drew a deep breath. The tang of salt carried by a faint breeze from the harbor mingled with the sweet scent of the garden’s floribunda roses. The breath turned into a yawn and she reluctantly turned away from the spellbinding view of sea and garden to reenter the bedroom. She showered, pulled on a nightgown, and climbed into bed.
She fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
When she woke, the midafternoon sun was slanting through the half-open drapes. Disoriented, she stared at the ceiling for a long moment, wondering why it was a pale rose instead of the eggshell-white she normally saw when waking in her bed in San Francisco.
Because I’m not home in San Francisco. She sat up, pushed her hair out of her eyes, and stared around her. The airy, shaded room was exotic and opulent, a mix of architecture that reflected the countries and cultures that bordered Daniz. The Spanish archway leading to the sitting room was edged with Greek tiles in green and gold and the French influence was apparent in the delicate Louis XIV chair placed in one corner near her bed. An exquisite Italian vase of handblown glass stood on the dresser, its shade of deep green a perfect foil for the white roses and trailing greenery it held. And the high ceilings and airy hangings tied back on the bed, that matched the sheer white draperies at the windows, reminded Emily that Morocco was just across the Mediterranean Sea.
It was so lovely and so exotically different from her apartment in San Francisco that she felt transported into another world.
It is another world, she reminded herself. The royal palace in a foreign country is definitely light years away from my apartment in San Francisco.
She tossed back the silky sheet and light coverlet and rose, wondering what time it was and how long she’d slept. She picked up her watch from the nightstand.
“Two o’clock? How could I have slept so long?” she murmured, dismayed that the day was half gone. She hurried into the bathroom where she found herself pausing once again to stare with pleasure at the effect of green and cream tiles, thick cream-colored turkish towels, and pale jade marble tub and sink. It wasn’t that she was unaccustomed to the beauty and comfort that money could provide. She’d grown up in her father’s opulent mansion; her playmates and friends all lived in similar wealthy homes. But there was something subtly different about Lazhar’s home. The deep jewel tones of the carpets were softly muted as if they had covered the teak and marble floors for years. The paintings of ladies and gentleman that hung on the walls bore a resemblance to one another and Emily suspected that they were Lazhar’s ancestors. The furnishings spoke of centuries of wealth and history yet conveyed a welcoming warmth that she’d never felt in her father’s oddly sterile mansion.
Emily shook herself out of her reverie and turned on the shower faucets, stripping quickly and stepping into the tiled surround.
A half hour later, showered, hair blown dry, makeup applied, wearing only a towel she walked back into the bedroom and halted abruptly. A maid dressed in a soft royal-blue uniform edged in gold, was just setting a tray with teapot and scones atop the small table near the window.
“Good afternoon.” Her soft voice was friendly and polite, the English words faintly accented with a musical lilt.
“Hello.” Emily glanced at the very English teapot with its pink tea rose pattern. Yet another country heard from, she thought.
The maid opened a door to a walk-in closet. “I unpacked your bag this morning and hung your dresses in here.” She pulled open a drawer. “And I folded your lingerie into the drawers.” She looked expectantly at Emily. “Would you like me to help you dress, ma’am?”
“I think I can manage but thank you for unpacking my things.”
“You’re very welcome,” the young woman murmured. “When you’re dressed, I’ll show you to the breakfast room.”
“Thank you.”
The maid smiled and left the room.
Emily waited until the door closed behind her before walking into the closet. She recognized only three of the many dresses and suits that hung on the long rod suspended along one wall. The closet was filled with gowns and casual wear, shoes on racks against the end wall, lingerie tucked into the drawers fitted against the opposite wall from the dress rack. She flipped through a row of dresses, noting the designer labels, before pulling open the drawers to glance at the filmy lingerie, all in her size. The clothing and underpinnings were gorgeous but Emily was torn between appreciation for the beautiful clothing and sheer annoyance that Lazhar obviously knew her measurements, right down to her bra and panties.
Was it possible that he’d ordered an entire wardrobe just for her? No, she thought, discounting the idea. That was a grand gesture that a very rich man might make for a potential lover, not for a business associate.
Still, he’d clearly noticed some things about her since he’d guessed her measurements perfectly.
Unless Jane told him, she thought. Emily resolved to have another serious talk with Jane about her role in aiding Lazhar’s high-handed methods when she returned to San Francisco.
Chapter Three
Emily followed the maid through unfamiliar halls until the young woman halted, pulled open a door and bowed.
“Prince Lazhar is here, madam.”
“Thank you,” Emily murmured, and was rewarded with a warm smile from the maid before she stepped across the threshold and the door closed silently behind her.
Lazhar sat at a round table, documents spread across the snowy cloth next to his coffee cup. He looked up as she entered the small dining room, a swift smile curving his mouth, his gaze heating as it flicked over her from head to toe and back again. “Good afternoon, Emily, did you sleep well?”
“Yes, very well, thank you.” Emily sat down in the chair held by a white-coated male servant and murmured a thank you when he poured coffee from a carafe into her cup.
“And your room is satisfactory?”
“More than satisfactory.” She smiled at him. “The view of the harbor is amazing, as is the garden off the bedroom. Do all the rooms have walled gardens?”
“Many of them, yes.” Lazhar dropped the document he was holding and lounged in his chair, nodding at the servant who immediately filled his coffee cup. “The palace gardens are my mother’s pride and joy. She’ll be pleased you’re enjoying her babies.”
“Her babies?” Emily looked up from the rubyred marmalade she was spreading on her toast.
“That’s what my mother calls the gardens. She told my sister and me that since we haven’t given her grandchildren, she’s making do with plants as a substitute for babies.” His smile flashed, white against tanned skin, his eyes warming with quick affection. “She’s as anxious as my father to see us happily married and starting our own families.”
“And do you and your sister agree with her?” Emily asked, curious.
He shrugged. “I can understand our parents’ wish to see us happily settled—especially since my father’s health is uncertain. Jenna, however…” He shook his head, amused. “My sister is adamant that she won’t be nudged into marrying before she’s ready.”
“So there’s no fiance waiting in the wings for your sister?”
“No. But it’s not for lack of trying by my father.”
Emily couldn’t help but smile with sympathy. “It hadn’t occurred to me before, but I suppose I should be grateful that while my father tries to control my life in other ways, he’s never nagged me about getting married—” She broke off, leaning back to let the silent servant place a plate with salmon quiche on the table before her and didn’t see the fleeting expression of regret on Lazhar’s face. The quiche was every bit as delicious as the sweet cantaloupe and honeydew melon cubes in a small bowl next to her plate. She wondered idly if the family chef would be preparing the wedding food before she remembered that she needed to speak to Lazhar about the designer wardrobe hanging in her bedroom. “Speaking of being grateful…” She glanced up at him to find him watching her, his dark eyes enigmatic. “I noticed that the closet in my room is filled with clothing,” she said carefully.
“I asked Mother to have her assistant stock the closet for you—it seemed only fair since I didn’t give you time to pack your own things before we left San Francisco,” he said smoothly.
How clever of him, she thought, her gaze never leaving his as she slowly sipped water from a chilled Waterford crystal glass. If I object, then I’ve insulted his mother. Very clever, indeed. She returned the glass to the table. “Please convey my thanks to your mother,” she said, her voice purposely neutral. “That was very kind of her.”
“I’ll be happy to,” he replied.
His words were as carefully polite as hers had been, but the amused glint in his dark eyes told her that he knew very well that she was uncomfortable with the situation. The clothing and lingerie were all the right size and that he had guessed so accurately made her painfully aware that he was far too familiar with the female body in general and hers in particular. The undercurrent of sexual tension that stretched between them stole her breath. He’s getting married soon, she told herself, unable to look away from the heat in his eyes. It’s crazy to feel so attracted to him. Lecturing herself didn’t make her heart stop pounding against her ribcage, nor did it cool the warmth moving slowly through her veins.
“Your Highness?”
Lazhar’s gaze left hers, moving past her to the doorway. “Yes?”
“King Abbar would like you and Miss Parks to join him in his garden this afternoon.”
“Very well. Tell him we’ll be with him shortly.” The servant bowed and left the room and Lazhar once again focused his attention on Emily. “I hope you don’t mind postponing our discussion of your itinerary until later. My father mentioned earlier that he wanted to meet you and since he must spend much of his time resting, we all tend to adjust our schedules to fit his.”
“That’s perfectly understandable—I’d be delighted to meet the king.” Emily glanced at her plate and realized that while she’d struggled to cope with the sexual tension between them, she’d mindlessly continued to fork food into her mouth and her plate was empty. She barely remembered chewing and swallowing. Annoyed that Lazhar had distracted her to such an extent, she blotted her lips with her napkin and placed the linen square neatly beside her plate. “I’m ready.”
Lazhar didn’t comment but again she caught the gleam of amusement in his eyes as he stood and held her chair.
They left the dining room and by the time they made a right and then a left turn down wide hallways, Emily was completely confused.
“Has a guest ever gotten lost in the palace?” she asked as they passed an open doorway and she caught a quick glimpse of a sitting room, tastefully decorated in feminine rose and pink shades.
“Often, but never for long. See the gold corded ropes hanging next to every third door?”
“Yes.” Emily hadn’t noticed them before.
“They’re bell-pulls connected to the main housekeeping office. If you’re ever lost, just tug on one of them and a speaker hidden in the wall above the door will allow you to ask directions from one of the staff.”
“That’s very ingenious.”
“Mother thought of it. I wanted to tie the speakers into the security system with the cameras but she thought it was too intrusive. She didn’t want guests reminded that they’re being watched, particularly here in our family quarters.” Lazhar paused outside mahogany double doors carved with the Daniz coat-of-arms. The two palace guards flanking the doors snapped to attention, saluted, and pulled open the heavy doors.
They crossed the threshold and Emily’s eyes widened as her gaze swept the expansive apartment. The white marble floor was partially covered by scattered Persian carpets in the royal colors of deep blue and gold. The room seemed more Eastern than European with its low blue sofas, mahogany tables, and large blue and gold silk pillows piled on the floor. One whole wall was glass with transparent white panels of silk drawn over half the length to deflect the brilliant, hot sunshine pouring into the high-ceilinged space. Emily caught her breath as they crossed the room and stepped through open doors into the garden beyond. The walled garden was bigger, more lush than the one outside her suite of rooms but it was the view beyond the waist-high stone balustrade that halted her. Not only were the harbor and the city’s redtiled roofs visible but also the pine and cypress covered hills above Daniz City’s narrow streets. The king’s garden boasted a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view of mountains, harbor, sea and city that was so impressive that for a moment, Emily didn’t notice that she and Lazhar weren’t alone in the garden.
“Ah, Lazhar, is this lovely young woman our guest from San Francisco?”
“Yes, Father, this is Emily.”
Startled from her absorption, Emily realized that Lazhar had been standing silently, waiting for her attention, and that an older man sat on a cushioned chaise lounge at the far end of the garden, shaded by the wide, leafy branches of an acacia tree. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized, embarrassment heating her cheeks. “I’m being terribly rude, please forgive me.” She gestured at the panoramic view. “You have such an amazing view.”
Lazhar cupped her elbow and escorted her the length of the garden to the small semicircle of chairs arranged beneath the spreading branches of the tree.
“Emily, I’d like you to meet my father, King Abbar.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Emily wasn’t sure if she should curtsy but before she could decide, the king gestured at the wrought-iron cushioned chairs next to his lounge.
“Please, join me.”
Emily felt the king’s shrewd gaze assessing her as Lazhar seated her next to his father and took the chair beside her.
“I’m pleased you find my country interesting,” the king continued.
“What I’ve seen so far has been fascinating,” Emily confided, charmed by the friendly warmth in the king’s dark eyes. Despite the sun, his skin had the pallor of ill health and his thin body seemed fragile; nevertheless the family connection between father and son was readily apparent. This is what Lazhar will look like when he’s older, she thought, taking in the bone structure and keen nearly black eyes, the boyish grin that curved his mouth as he nodded with approval at her comment, his assessing gaze developing a distinct twinkle. Like his son, he had an air of masculine elegance, though his white jacket, shirt and pale-gray slacks were much more casual than Lazhar’s gray suit.
“You must take her to the Jewel Market, Lazhar.” King Abbar’s gaze turned thoughtful as he glanced from his son to Emily. “Or perhaps you have already seen the Market, Emily? I understand that your father has been involved in gem trading for many years.”
“Since before I was born,” Emily confirmed. “He and my brother have visited the Market here in Daniz, but I haven’t had the pleasure.”
“Your father didn’t take the family with him on business trips?” the king asked, waving a servant closer to pour coffee for his guests.
“No. He doesn’t believe in mixing business with family matters.” Emily smiled her thanks as she took a delicate cup and saucer from the young man serving her. She didn’t see the questioning glance King Abbar gave Lazhar, nor the slight shake of his son’s head in response. “We didn’t travel with him at all. In fact, I’ve never been out of the States until last night.”
“Never?” Lazhar’s surprise was evident.
“Never—except for short trips across the U.S. border into Mexico and Canada and I don’t count those since they’re our neighboring countries.” She sipped her coffee, the sweet, strong brew foreign to her tongue. “Not that I didn’t want to travel,” she said hastily as she glanced up to find the king’s dark gaze assessing her. “I planned to take a year off and tour Europe after college, but then I had the opportunity to start Creative Weddings and I decided to postpone a European tour until later. Since then, I’ve focused on building the business and any traveling I managed to squeeze in has been to visit clients in the U.S. I can’t seem to get away from the office for longer than a day or two.”
“Then we’re fortunate that you’ve taken this time to spend with us,” the king said. “I understand that you’ve agreed to plan Lazhar’s wedding.”
“I’m very interested in the possibility,” Emily said carefully. “As I told your son, however, I won’t be able to put together a comprehensive proposal until I’ve seen the facilities, talked to your staff, and have a bit more input from him, his fiancée, and your family.”
The king waved away her concerns. “I’m certain that your proposal will be acceptable. My son has chosen you and I have complete confidence in his judgment in this matter. Even more so now that I’ve met you.” His eyes twinkled.
“Thank you, Father,” Lazhar said wryly.
This is how it should be between a father and son, Emily thought, as the two exchanged a look of complete understanding. Seeing Lazhar with his father made Emily realize why he had spirited her out of San Francisco and what made him willing to do whatever it took to make his father’s wish a reality. He clearly loved his father and even Emily, who had never felt that mutual affection between herself and her father, couldn’t help but recognize the depth of the connection between the two.
“I told Emily that she needs to tour the country and meet our people in order to understand more about Danizian culture before creating a wedding plan,” Lazhar continued.
“An excellent idea.” The king nodded in agreement. “And you’ll be her guide, of course—where will you begin?”
“I thought we’d dine at the palace this evening, with mother and Jenna. Emily can sample traditional Daniz recipes and the work of the chef who will be preparing the food for the reception and wedding banquet. After dinner, we’ll tour the casino.” He looked at Emily. “Unless there’s something else you’d prefer to do this evening?”
Emily shook her head. “Not at all, it sounds like an excellent plan.”
The king glanced at his watch. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy both our chef’s dinner and the casino, Emily. And now, I’m afraid I must say good afternoon. I have another appointment that I must keep.”
Emily rose, waiting while Lazhar helped his father to his feet before the king took the arm of a burly manservant. The white clad servant had appeared so silently that Emily was unaware he was near until he stepped forward to hold out his arm for the king to lean on.
“Good afternoon, Emily.” The king held out his free hand. “I’m very glad you’ve come to stay with us.”
“Thank you.” Emily took his hand in hers, surprised by the strength in the thin fingers. Although he was as tall as his son, King Abbar seemed almost frail in comparison to Lazhar and the stocky servant. An indomitable spirit and will blazed from his eyes but it was clear that the king was ill.
“We will talk again tomorrow.”
“I look forward to it.”
The king smiled with approval and turned to his son. “Come to my rooms before you go down to dinner, Lazhar. There is something I wish to discuss with you.”
“Of course, Father.”
Emily stood silently beside Lazhar, watching the king’s labored steps as he left the garden with his aide and disappeared through a door at the far end of the patio.
“Your father is a very charming man,” Emily commented as Lazhar walked beside her to reenter the high-ceilinged living room. “The two of you seem very close.”
“We’re father and son,” Lazhar said simply, opening the door to the hall. Again, the guards snapped to attention.
“So are Cade and my father, but I’ve never thought of their relationship as anything but…distant.” “Difficult,” or even “adversarial” might better describe the association between her brother and Walter, she thought, but years of listening to her father’s commands forbidding any discussions about the family with outsiders made her choose a milder word.
“That’s unfortunate.” Lazhar paused outside a door and Emily realized that he’d returned her to her suite. “My father and I have grown closer since I became an adult and took over our national security. But even when I was a child and he was busy with the grueling job of running the country, with a thousand daily demands on his time, he always insisted that we share meals together as a family and each evening, he and mother tucked us in bed.” A fond smile quirked his mouth. “They’re both very hands-on parents. How about you, Emily?” he asked softly, his gaze focused intently on hers. “Do you want children? Do you see yourself as a mother who insists on tucking them in each night? Or would you leave them to nannies and governesses?”
“No governesses.” Emily shook her head. “And no nannies.”
“You say that with great conviction,” he commented.
“I was raised by my father’s housekeeper. Brenda is a wonderful woman and we were very lucky to have her, but children should have their parents involved in their lives.” Realizing that she may have revealed more than she intended, Emily shrugged and tried for a careless tone. “But I probably won’t have children, so it’s a nonissue for me.”
He lifted an eyebrow, folded his arms across his chest and leaned his shoulder against the wall. “You don’t plan to have children? You don’t look forward to marrying?”
He looked as if he had all the time in the world to discuss her marital status, or lack of one. Emily almost groaned out loud. Why had she been so adamant about methods of parenting children? Granted, she felt very strongly about the issue, but she needed to keep Lazhar at arm’s length. His affection and care for his father had already melted some of the barriers she’d erected around her emotions. She didn’t want to discuss her feelings about children with him. What if he were understanding and kind? Excellent qualities if I were his fiancée because they would make me love him more, she thought, but since I’m only the wedding planner and a business associate, not so good for me to know.